


Difficult

by temporalgambit



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalgambit/pseuds/temporalgambit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A recently-adopted Takashi isn't feeling well. Touko and Shigeru do the best they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Difficult

**Author's Note:**

> You can know me from now on as "the author who only seems to post sickfic anymore." 
> 
> Joking aside, Natsume's relationship with his foster parents is very, very important to me, and I hope I've managed to get that across. Please enjoy!

Natsume is always (always, _always_ ) worrying about inconveniencing the Fujiwaras—it’s on his top ten list of things he never ever wants to do. So when he gets sick at school, he’s absolutely horrified when the nurse declares him too ill to walk home by himself. And when she phones Touko to come to collect him, he’s not only humiliated (what kind of high-schooler throws up in the middle of class, anyway?) but also ashamed and embarrassed for wasting her time.

But when she gets there, Touko is so _nice_ about it—“Oh, Takashi-kun, you poor thing, you don’t look well at all. You seemed extra quiet this morning, I should’ve said something, I’m sorry.” (He wonders what _she’s_ sorry for, but doesn’t feel well enough to try and figure it out.)

To make matters worse, he gets sick again on the way home (it’s only a short walk from the school to their house, but the universe is _determined_ not to give him a break). He expects Touko to get annoyed, or at least grossed out—but she’s _calm_ instead. She crouches beside him and rubs his back as he heaves on hands and knees on the side of the dusty road. Once he’s finished, she digs through her bag, coming up with a bottle of water. He rinses his mouth several times before bowing his head to apologize—

But she’s already pulling him in for a hug, hand rubbing soothingly up and down his spine—“It’s okay, Takashi sweetheart, you can’t help being sick.”

They make it the rest of the way home, and it’s a bit of a blur from there. Shigeru’s home early— _by chance, or had she called him?_ —and he helps support Natsume into the house. Then another blur, but he remembers Touko getting him settled on the couch, and Shigeru returning with a plastic bucket and a wry smile. 

Touko sits on the sofa with him. He can see the flickering light of the TV, but his eyes won’t focus quite right to see the picture. A fleece blanket is tucked around his body, and he suddenly finds himself with his head in Touko’s lap. Shigeru slips a thermometer between his lips—they both frown and mutter at the reading, but he’s too tired to care. A cool cloth is on his forehead, Touko’s fingers threading through his hair. He’s comfortable, drifting.

And then, abruptly, he’s not—and he’s scrambling upright before he’s even aware of his surroundings. Touko gets the bucket under his chin just in time, her hand again rubbing his back as he retches for what feels like an eternity. She’s murmuring something to him—probably meant to comfort, though he can’t make out the words. When it stops, Shigeru’s there with a glass of water, and also…tissues? Oh. He’s crying. He hadn’t even noticed. That’s great. First puking, now crying—he’s certain this is not the way to win over a foster family.

He rinses his mouth and goes to grab a tissue, but Touko beats him there—using one to wipe off the mess on his chin, and then a second to dab at the tear tracks on his cheeks and to swipe beneath his nose. He’s embarrassed—she must be able to tell, because she relinquishes the tissue to him. _“Blow, alright?”_ is her order, and he complies. It takes him three more tissues before his nose finally stops running. He feels disgusting—surely he must _look_ disgusting—but a quick glance up to confirm his worst fears reveals only matching expressions of concern.

“Are you feeling better, Takashi-kun?” He nods, and Shigeru takes that as a cue to remove the bucket—presumably to rinse it out, though in his current state he really doesn’t want to contemplate that. 

Then it’s another blurry whirlwind of activity. Shigeru returns with the bucket—plus a change of clothes, which Natsume realizes is his pajamas. Touko leaves the room. Shigeru helps him change—he probably could’ve done it himself, but he’s so _tired_ he’s grateful for the help—before leading him to the bathroom. Luckily, he’s steady enough to do this part on his own, and he feels worlds better after brushing his teeth. 

Then, it’s back out to the couch—apparently, he’s spending the night here. Touko is waiting for them—she’s already laid a pillow on one end of the sofa, and she’s holding a thick comforter in her arms. Shigeru helps him get settled, and Touko tucks him in. “Are you comfortable?” 

He nods and tries to thank her. She shushes him, but the look on her face says she understands. She leans down to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead, and he can feel hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again. She must notice, but all she says is, “Do you want one of us to sit with you for a while?” 

He tries to tell her no, that they’ve done more than enough already, but his throat is too tight so he just shakes his head instead. 

“Okay. I’m leaving water on the table; please try to take small sips if you can, so you don’t get dehydrated. One of us will be back to check on you in a little bit, but if something happens before then, just call, okay?”

He nods. 

“I mean it,” she adds sternly, “if you throw up again, or if you feel really sick, or if you need _anything_ for _any_ reason, I need you to promise you’ll let us know.”

Another nod.

They leave the room hesitantly—both wanting to give him his space and wanting to coddle him at the same time. Deciding he knows what’s best for himself, they retire to their room, dressing for bed and slipping in on either side.

It’s not long after turning out the light, however, that they hear a suspicious shuffling noise, then a thump.

“Is that Takashi…?” Touko murmurs, turning over to listen.

A beat of silence, then another dull thud. “I’ll check on him,” Shigeru offers, already moving to stand.

In the living room, he finds their charge hunched over on the sofa, a white-knuckle grip on the sides of the bucket as he heaves.

Swiftly coming to sit beside him, Shigeru places a comforting hand between Natsume’s shoulder blades. He rubs up and down, trying to soothe, and doesn’t stop until the boy has lifted his head.

“Feel better?” he asks, offering what he hopes is a gentle smile.

Natsume nods, then looks away, clearly ashamed. “I’m sorry I keep— ” his voice is hoarse, and Shigeru cuts him off.

“None of that—it’s not your fault. You want to rinse your mouth?” 

A nod.

“Alright,” he hands him the glass of water—making sure he’s got a firm grip with both hands before releasing it. 

Natsume rinses, spits, repeats, and Shigeru takes the glass from his hands. “I’m going to refill this,” he explains, “rinse out this,” he grabs the bucket, “and then I’ll be back, okay?”

Another nod.

He returns after only a few minutes, but when he does, Takashi looks about ready to topple over. “Why don’t you lie down while I go talk to Touko?” he suggests.

Natsume pauses, straightens his posture a little, slowly shakes his head. “I think…” he swallows hard, “…I think I feel a little better sitting up.”

“Okay,” Shigeru tries to sound encouraging, “do what makes you feel best, I’ll be right back.”

Shigeru comes back into the bedroom, finding Touko sitting cross-legged. “He got sick again,” he tells her, “but he’s okay—still a little queasy, though, and I think his fever’s up again. I’m going to sit with him for a while.”

“No, let me,” she disagrees. “You’ve got work in the morning.”

Shigeru looks like he wants to argue for a moment, but finally nods. “Do you think we should take him to the doctor?”

Touko considers the question for a moment. “Maybe if he’s not any better by tomorrow. It’s just—” she bites her lip, unsure how to continue, “—are…are we doing this right? We never really talked about…and Takashi is so…”

Shigeru puts up a hand to stop her, “I don’t think there’s exactly a manual for taking care of sick kids,” he half-jokes, “and Takashi…has been through a lot, and we can’t change that, but…I think if we could just make sure he knows he’s loved, and that we want to be there for him, and that he’s not a burden—even when he’s really sick—I think that would be enough for now.”

She nods, getting to her feet. “Try and get some rest. I’ll see how he’s doing.”

They swap places, and she makes a detour to the bathroom. She fills a bowl with water, grabs two washcloths, and heads to the living room.

“Hi, Takashi-kun,” she greets, setting the bowl and cloths on the table.

He lifts his head from where it’s buried in his hands, blinks at her blearily, as if not really sure she’s there. “Touko-san…?”

“Mm-hm,” she confirms, “I’m going to sit with you for a while, okay?”

He nods, wondering why she feels like she has to ask. This is _her_ house, after all. She sits next to him on the sofa, close enough to brush arms. He feels a cool touch on his forehead, belatedly realizing it’s the back of Touko’s hand.

“Still quite the fever,” she comments, dipping one of the cloths into the water to gently wipe his face. “I hear you’re still not feeling too well?”

A slight head shake. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to—I don’t mean to—”

“I know, I know,” she hushes him, “but you being sick worries us a lot more than any inconvenience it might cause. We just want you to feel better.” She sees a blush she’s pretty sure can’t just be attributed to fever, and smiles, hoping she’s said the right thing.

Takashi tries to smile back, and she feels her heart break a little for this poor kid who wants nothing more than to be cared for. She pushes some stray hair off his face, running a gentle hand down the side of his cheek.

The scene lasts just a moment, however, as Takashi’s face abruptly twists. “Ah—Touko-san, I think…I think I’m gonna…” And he retrieves the bucket from the floor, panting as he stares into its depths. “I…I hate this…” he admits, sounding miserable and exhausted.

“I know you do,” she assures him, rubbing a hand up and down his back. It’s less than a minute later that he gags, little more then bile splattering into the bottom of the bucket. “Oh my g—” he half-moans, before another round comes, and another, with a sound that makes Touko cringe in sympathy.

And then it’s over, Takashi panting like he’s just run a marathon, leaning heavily into Touko’s side—she doesn’t even think he realizes he’s doing it.

When he regains some of his composure, they repeat the cleanup process—she helps him rinse his mouth, goes to wash the bucket, returns with fresh water. 

When she comes to sit back down on the couch, he readily accepts her invitation to lean into her side once more, her arm around his shoulders. With the other hand, she squeezes out the washrag again, carefully swiping down his face and neck. He’s burning, she can tell, but he finally seems comfortable, so she’s loathe to make him move so she can check his temperature again. 

“Touko-san,” he finally breathes, after five—no, ten—minutes have passed. 

“Yes?” she asks, wondering what he could possibly say after all this time. If he tries to apologize again…

Another breath, then, finally, murmured almost too quietly to hear, “Thank you.”

She can’t think of a response she can adequately put into words, so instead the plants a kiss firmly on his temple. She doesn’t miss the tear the runs silently down his cheek, but, again, doesn’t comment on it.

And then, slowly, his breathing evens out, and he’s dead to the world asleep. She can’t imagine it’s a very restful position to be sleeping in, half-sitting up, but there’s nothing on this earth that could make her move him right now. 

She comes to a conclusion just then. Kids are hard. They’re confusing, a little messy, scary to take care of, and difficult to understand. And with Takashi, maybe they’ll never come to understand him completely, as much as he’s been through. But kids are also warm. They’re bright, and special, and full of surprises and light and joy around every corner. And with Takashi here in their home, sick or no, this big, cold, empty house just got a little warmer.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a somewhat different format than my usual fics, so I was slightly nervous about posting it. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
